Song Magick (34 page)

Telyn’s lament had guided Mithrais through
the labyrinth of his own grief, and although the sadness of the
loss of his friend would always be with him, the Westwarden was no
longer racked by the painful wrench of guilt that had followed any
thought of Aric in the last few days. He remained convinced that
his orders had been the right ones, and Mithrais found that he was
able to return Jona’s unfriendly gaze without defiance or shame. It
was the Elder Martial who looked away first.

Rodril and Halith waited for him at the edge
of the clearing. Mithrais’ eyes searched for Telyn as he crossed
the grass, and found her in the midst of a group of wardens, Cormac
at her side. Several of those surrounding the bard were those
chosen to aid her; others simply wished to speak to Telyn before
they returned to their posts. She looked weary and slightly
overwhelmed, but had maintained her composure throughout a night
that had initially held promises of clarity, and had ended in
frustration.

The look on Cormac’s face when told that he
had called Telyn’s magic on his own had been close to fright. A
clear head prevailed in the person of Halith; Rodril’s lifemate had
been the first to remind them that the Gwaith’orn had claimed that
the wardens chosen to aid Telyn would be able to use magic through
her focus. It was both an answer to the Gwaith’orn’s cryptic clues
and another riddle in itself.

Telyn had repeated the process of overlaying
her musical gifts upon Colm, who had immediately been able to
duplicate the focus of power. The Northwarden hardly needed her
assistance in regard to his musical talent; Colm’s ability was, as
Cormac had indicated, worthy of any bard. In a subsequent endeavor,
both Cormac and Colm had drawn upon Telyn’s gifts at the same
time.

Accompanied by Colm’s fellow musicians upon
bodhran and a Sildan fiddle, called a
secail,
their quintet
had provided some very worthy efforts in celebration of Aric’s
life. The other wardens had listened with enthusiastic
appreciation, most of them unaware of the experiment being
conducted.

That left seven other Tauron with whom she
must find a way to share her gifts—seven wardens who did not play
instruments, and two of whom had little concept even of rhythm,
judging from their heartfelt but uncoordinated responses to the
music being played. Telyn had turned to Mithrais: surely, with
their empathic bond, he would be able to call on her song magic
more easily than Cormac or Colm-–but without the catalyst of music,
the magic seemed to lie stubbornly dormant.

Mithrais joined Halith and Rodril, who
readied themselves to return to their posts.

“If Halith or I can be of assistance to you
and Telyn, send word.”

Mithrais nodded in thanks. “I leave the
Western Ward in your skilled hands,” he said, and Rodril nodded,
inclining his head formally.

“Jona has temporarily reassigned Liam to my
command until the solstice, or until you and Cormac are able to
return to your posts.” Rodril glowered at the Westwarden, and
growled “I don’t wish this commission to become permanent,
Mithrais. Be quick about it.”

Mithrais could not suppress a grin as he
clapped the older man on the shoulder. “I’ll return as soon as I
can.” He clasped Halith’s hand in parting, and moved to collect a
relieved Telyn from the press of eager wardens, bidding Cormac a
temporary farewell until they met at the guild house that
night.

They left the Circle behind within a short
time, guiding the horses through the dense undergrowth toward the
main road. Telyn was distracted and quiet; glancing back, Mithrais
could see that it was more than just weariness that weighed heavily
on her shoulders. Mithrais reined his horse in and dropped back to
ride beside her once they reached the road.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he
asked softly.

“I’m just trying to think through this,” she
said, and sighed harshly. “I’ve never accessed my gifts through
anything but music. I don’t possess a reference point for it.”

There were dark circles under her eyes, and
Mithrais touched her cheek softly. “You’re spent. Don’t try to
solve any more riddles now.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be a Tauron warden,
and learn to go without sleep for days...”

“Even that has a price when abused, and
recompense must be made at some point.” Mithrais took her hand.
“Will you ride behind me, and sleep while you’re able?”

Telyn hesitated a moment before she agreed,
and handed him the reins of her mount. Mithrais offered his arm to
pull her across the small gap between their horses. Telyn settled
behind him, her arms around his waist and her cheek resting against
his back.

“Don’t let me fail,” she muttered, and
chuckled humorlessly as she realized what she had said. “Slip of
the tongue. I meant, don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t.” Mithrais put his own hand over her
clasped wrists, feeling her weight and warmth against his back
increase as Telyn relaxed into sleep, lulled by the slow, rocking
pace of the horse beneath them. He added quietly, “Not on either
account.”

* * * *

The back of a horse was not the easiest place
to doze, but upon awakening, the bard was surprised to discover
that she had managed to steal nearly two hours of sleep. Telyn
remounted her own horse for the remainder of their journey, and
they picked up speed to compensate for the slow beginning.

She still felt sluggish and stupid, and the
unexpectedly draining effects of this new side of her gifts were
making themselves known in the growl of her stomach. The quick meal
they had eaten just before the dawn rites seemed long ago, and
woefully small.

It was early afternoon when they reached the
south gate of the city. They picked their way through the crowded
streets at a more cautious pace, passing into the wooded lane that
curved uphill toward the manor. The leaves which had allowed
tantalizing glimpses of the structure only a few days before had
now thickened considerably, making the stone walls and pale upper
floors more difficult to see. Telyn was forcibly reminded of the
passage of time, and how little remained until the summer solstice.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself, and took a deep breath,
trying to believe that the answers were there within her own
gifts.

Grooms moved to take the reins from them as
they arrived in the stable yard, and while Telyn unfastened the
leather thongs binding the saddlebag full of her precious
instruments, she caught sight of a small wagon that was drawn up
beside her own in the lee of the stable. She cocked her head
curiously. Something about it was familiar. She couldn’t place it,
exactly, but she was certain she had seen it before.

“Is something the matter?” Mithrais asked
her, removing his sheathed bow and quiver and looping the strap
over his shoulder. Telyn shook her head quickly, and returned to
the lacings of her saddlebag.

“Nothing, really. I think I know that wagon,
but I can’t remember why. It may be an itinerant craftsman, or a
performer like me, that I’ve passed on the road.” She glanced
toward the cool, dark interior of the stable. “Do I have time to go
see Bessa?”

“Of course,” Mithrais grinned. “I’ll go find
Diarmid, and see how the land lies.” He kissed her quickly and took
the saddlebag from her, turning toward the manor.

The grey mare whickered at her expectantly as
she approached, and Telyn stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle with
affection.

“I’m glad you’re with me again, my girl,” she
said softly. “If you’ve rested enough, tonight you shall take me to
the guild house. You do remember how to wear a saddle, don’t
you?”

Bessa snorted, affronted by this question,
and as Telyn continued to speak with her quietly, another equine
face peered in curious recognition around the side of the
neighboring stall and whuffled at the bard’s hair. Surprised, Telyn
greeted the horse, and then stared at the stocky, coal-black
gelding, which bore a curious red blaze on its forehead.

“I know
you
,” Telyn said delightedly,
and sudden excitement flooded through her as she patted the
still-damp neck of the gelding. “Colba! That means...”

Telyn flew back through the doors of the
stable with a quickly gasped apology to the startled grooms, whom
she nearly trampled. She ran across the courtyard and rushed
through the door of the entryway to find Diarmid and Mithrais
involved in a quiet but intense discussion at the foot of the
stairs.

“The black gelding in the stable, and the
wagon—where is the owner?” she demanded of the surprised
steward.

“In the kitchens, at the moment,” Diarmid
stammered, taken aback, and Telyn left them staring after her as
she crossed beneath the soaring balconies. She flung open the door
that led into the bustling heart of the household, and immediately
collided with the very person she sought.

The darkly handsome, bearded man doffed his
hat with a bow, his jerkin glittering with metallic threads. “A
thousand pardons, my dear...” began the rich baritone voice, which
suddenly faltered and hesitated as the man looked at her for the
first time, his brown eyes widening in recognition, the hat
dropping forgotten to the floor.

“Tel?” he said, his voice breaking in joyful
disbelief. He threw his arms around her in a bone-cracking hug,
lifting her off her feet, and Telyn burst into tears as her arms
went around his neck. Mithrais and Diarmid came slowly toward them
as Telyn stood weeping in the embrace of Emrys Harpmaster, unable
to speak.

* * * *

“What are you doing here?” Telyn finally
asked when she had regained some of her composure.

“I could ask the same of you!” Emrys
countered, and his face fell as he shook his head, his eyes
darkening with concern. “Oh, Tel, we must talk.”

“You know why...” Telyn said hesitatingly,
and Emrys nodded with caution, and she followed his glance toward
Mithrais and Diarmid, who approached the reunion with bemused
expressions.

“Yes. That’s why we must talk,” he said in a
low voice, and then smiled brilliantly, a myriad of lines that
Telyn did not remember being so prominent furrowing the skin around
Emrys’ eyes and mouth. “I’m truly relieved to see that you are
well. It hasn’t been the same without my shadow,” Emrys told her,
his arms going around her once more.

Telyn clung briefly, another tear of gladness
escaping her eyes, and she turned hastily to Mithrais and Diarmid,
wiping her cheeks self-consciously.

“Mithrais, may I present Emrys Harpmaster,”
she said. Mithrais stepped forward, his features lighting with a
welcoming smile as he recognized the name, and offered his hand to
the newly arrived bard.

“Well met, Emrys,” Mithrais said with warmth,
and Emrys accepted the clasp of wrists firmly. “I’ve heard a great
deal about you from Telyn.”

“Some of it true, I will wager,” Emrys said,
bowing, with a sidelong glance at Telyn, “and all of it flattering,
I trust.” He straightened, his keen eyes taking in Mithrais’ forest
green jerkin. “I mistook you for an ordinary Tauron warden just
now, Lord Mithrais, but upon closer observation, I can see that you
are the mirror image of your father, whom I have just had the honor
of meeting.”

Telyn turned to the steward, who was watching
this exchange with keen interest. “Diarmid, Emrys was my foster
father longer than he will ever admit.”

“Foster brother, more like,” Emrys said
quickly, returning Diarmid’s amused nod. “I was barely of age when
Taliesin saddled me with her. Such a burden, she was. Always
whining, never wanting to practice; would rather drink ale than
sing at a tavern...”

“That was you, not me,” Telyn scolded him,
and Emrys clapped his hand to his forehead in mock
forgetfulness.

“It’s hunger. I was trying to find the
kitchens and ended up in the laundry. I was on my way back to ask
Diarmid where I went wrong.”

“What an unfair question to ask Diarmid,”
Telyn retorted. “I can give a much more detailed account of where
you went wrong.”

“I’m beginning to remember why I was relieved
to be rid of you,” Emrys said with mock rancor, and Telyn laughed
with giddy happiness, almost able to forget the pressures she faced
because of the joy she felt at seeing Emrys again.

“I can take you to the kitchens for a bite to
eat. I’m rather hungry myself,” Telyn declared, and turned to
Mithrais. “Will you join us?”

Mithrais shook his head regretfully. “Father
has asked to see me as soon as I returned. You can come to us if
you wish, but I know that he would insist that you have the chance
to rest and eat.” He kissed her briefly, and turned to Emrys with a
strangely pointed look. “I understand that you and I will have the
chance to become acquainted later.”

“I look forward to it, my lord.” Emrys bowed
again, his manner curiously formal, leaving Telyn wondering as
Mithrais left them hurriedly.

“If you wish, Telyn, you may entertain our
guest in your day room. The midday meal is prepared, and I can have
it sent up immediately,” Diarmid suggested, and Telyn gratefully
agreed.

With a meaningful glance at Emrys, Diarmid
added in a tone that was not meant to carry, “It will be less
likely that anything can be overheard there that should not be
widely known. Lady Marithiel is for the moment unaware of the
official status of your presence, Lord Harpmaster.” Diarmid
sketched a brief bow as he disappeared through the door.

Telyn stared at Emrys, who looked abashed as
he glanced uncomfortably after Diarmid, nor had she missed the
honorific.

“Official status?” Telyn asked, her brow
creasing with growing suspicion. “Emrys, what did he mean?”

“I suppose it’s best that you find out from
me,” Emrys said gently. He clasped Telyn’s hand in both his own,
speaking quietly. “I am the advance party for a royal delegation,
Tel. This is a bit of a test for me, I think, to prove my worth at
such an advanced age.”